Only in Vegas
by just another harlequin
Summary: One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor. Glittery lights, liquor in the air, and a ring on her finger; Vegas is a magic that is controlled by whoever has the right cards, and Ray's got the royal flush. A request by Vanii.


"_Whoever said love is the best kind of drunk hasn't had enough to drink."  
_-**Anon **

**.**

Only in Vegas

_Request by Vanii_

**.**

"_Mine or yours?" He murmured against her lips. She whimpered in response, clutching onto him like he was her only lifeline in a world outside the haze they had created._

_There was a door in front of them and it seemed that the question of 'where' was no longer a concern. With her back against the solid wood; she saw the bed behind him. Slipping her hands from his thick hair down to his shirt, she toyed with the buttons. _

_Against her lips, he smiled._

"_Whatever you want, I'll give you whatever you want; just give me now and I'll give you whatever you want as long as you want it," he murmured, his voice a low almost desperate whisper._

_Beneath her fingertips, his heart thrummed with the rush of adrenaline hissing from her veins while the muscles of his chest flexed at her every touch, warming her skin through his shirt. _

_He pulled away for a moment, nudging her chin to look him in the eye and not at the obvious bulge waiting impatiently at the hem of his shirt. _

"_Is that a yes?" _

_Her nimble fingers pulled a button of his shirt loose –_

.

**King of Clubs**

The smell hit her first.

Smirnoff, Cherry Tequila, Russian bear, Apple sours and gods knew what else mingled with the musk of sex. That's not a good thing. Grimacing with closed eyes as the morning light hit her face and chased any reminiscence of sleep away.

Damn it. Someone turn off the sun.

Deciding that turning her back to it was better than hiding in front of it, Stella rolled over, sighing happily when the light's touch could only warm her back and lull her to sleep once again.

"Urgh, who died?"

Brows furrowing, she reached out with closed eyes towards the voice.

To be honest Stella hadn't expected to touch anything. She figured it was an imaginary voice in her head, probably a result of her being awake so early in the morning. When her palm made contact with warm skin, however, her eyes popped open to the size of dinner plates and she flew off the bed so fast she knocked over a lamp.

The one time she had shared a bed with someone it had been her, Liv and Mo because they outright refused to sleep in the tour bus when Wen and Charlie ordered Mexican food from a dodgy gas station.

This was nothing like that situation.

"The hell? Who are you and why are you in my bed?" The lump only groaned. "I've got a lamp!" She threatened.

Another groan. "Damn it, you're so loud."

Oh hell no.

No.

No.

No.

He sat up; his head of pointed blonde spikes were a mess of tousled gold, both hands caught in the strands as he held his head.

And he was naked from the waist down.

Oh god.

At least she hoped so.

He turned to look at her then and smirked lazily. "Well good morning to you too beautiful."

She raised the lamp in warning, only to realize that she wasn't as clothed as she hoped he would be. Yelping, she pulled the blankets off the bed and covered herself, leaving her weapon on the floor and glaring at the man on her bed. "Beech, what the hell are you doing in my room?"

"Who says it's your room?"

Her face flushed a violent red.

And not just because she realized he was sitting on her bed as naked as the day he was born.

It was mainly due to the fact that part of last night rushed at her all at once, literally.

She was leaning over the toilet bowl she emptied out the contents of her stomach before she knew it, which only consisted of a variety of desserts and lots of alcohol. Oh how she regretted the alcohol. She reached for the flush and leaned against the wall of the bathroom, trying to figure out what happened the night before only to get hit with a headache so vicious it would've killed a whale.

"I'll try not to take offense to that."

"Not. Now."

Sighing, he walked towards her, offering her a hand.

Warily, Stella looked up at him, consciously ignoring the maroon boxers that complimented his lightly browned skin perfectly and seemed to accent the sculpted quality of his lower abdomen. "What?"

"Get up, I need the bathroom."

"Are you going to throw up too?"

He snorted. "I don't know about you, but I can hold my liquor."

Rolling her eyes, she accepted his help mainly because she wasn't entirely sure she had a full handle on her co-ordination skills.

With her hand in his, she realized something quite shocking.

Firstly that her hands were about as big as his (which either meant his were small or she had huge hands). Secondly, the manicure Mo made her get was ruined so being forced to sit still for two hours was for nothing, and last, but not least: there was a giant rock, bound in gold around her ring finger.

"No, no, no, no, no."

"Stella -"

"No!"

.

**King of Jacks**

Annoyed, she stalked around the hotel room looking for clothes and possibly some aspirins. Her head throbbed.

Alright, aspirins first.

Settling for turning the blankets into a temporary dress, she wrapped it properly over her bust and tied the ends so it wouldn't fall. Huffing, she began opening up random compartments in search for some sort of drug to get her out of her funk.

I wonder if I can find an annulment document hiding in here…

There was no sign of any aspirins or documents erasing last night's events, but there was no shortage of empty bottles of liquor. There were even two room-service carts with plates that were licked clean.

When she finally found something to cure her hangover she couldn't find anything non-alcoholic to drink it with.

She huffed once more.

"Beech!" Her voice reverberated through her skull and her brows furrowed in irritation.

"What do you want?"

"Water."

"What do I look like, a water bearing genie?"

"The water's in there you turd."

"Well come in and get it."

Thankfully Beech was safely in the shower, the steam blocking out the view she would've had to endure of him under the spray.

Walking in with a grumble, Stella grabbed a glass on the sink and rinsed it, filling it with water and gulping it down with the pill she had found.

"Turn off the tap would you, you're killing my shower."

"You've killed my morning, it's the least I can do," she snapped, glaring pointedly at the ring shining on her finger. She would've thrown it at him, but punching him earlier swelled her hand and the option of removing it wasn't available to her anymore.

"What happened to saving the planet or whatever it is vegetarians hope to accomplish."

She glared at his blurry reflection only to realize she was involuntarily staring at his ass. "What the hell happened last night?"

"What do you think happened?"

Well it was kind of obvious _what_ happened, but _why_ it happened she couldn't really remember. Hadn't she sworn so many years ago that she'd never sleep with him again; never, ever, ever –

"There's a toothbrush there," he mentioned suddenly.

"What?"

"What?"

"Are you trying to say something?"

"Yes, your breath stinks like the dead."

Opening her mouth to retort she grimaced at the feel of ash in her mouth. Point Beech.

"I'm going to kill your shower," she said mockingly.

"I'd rather that happen then you kill me with your morning breath."

"It isn't that bad."

"Please, for a vegetarian you'd be killing a lot of animals."

Letting the tap get warm and watching in satisfaction as the steam started to disappear, she answered, "I'll start with you."

"Well you did say I was in animal in bed."

A pregnant pause ensued.

"What, no comeback?"

"Shut up." Glaring at her reflection for getting into this mess, she noted the lack of make-up on her face from last night and though her hair was still a mess there was a substantial lack of vomit in it.

Well at least I know I wasn't drinking with any of the guys last night.

The door of the shower cubical opened and she looked down at the sink. It was just her luck that the shower was right in front of it.

"I'm going to order breakfast you want any?"

"No."

Her stomach kept churning sickeningly as parts of last night flitted into her mind, broken fragments of voices and light, and color exploded in kaleidoscope lenses before her eyes before she was startled by his sudden touch.

"What…are you doing?"

From over her shoulder, he looked at her through the mirror. Blue eyes free of any of the red that she had in hers. No exhaustion. No signs of a hangover.

I should take a shower too, she thought vaguely.

"You've got glitter in your hair."

"What?"

His smile was sudden and jarred her just as much as the alcohol did; the turning in her stomach not a result from the mistakes of last night's fun.

"It's from the confetti cannon."

"What confetti cannon?"

His expression changed then, though not by much. The smile was still there, but his lips were curling in mischief and there was some sort of secret playing in the depths of his eyes. "The one downstairs at the casino, you know I won in there last night."

"I saw." She stepped back slightly; suddenly aware of how close they were standing before. Vaguely it occurred to her that they hadn't been that close to each other in a long time..."What, did you clean out the liquor store or something?"

"No, _we _cleaned out the liquor store or something."

"That would explain why I slept with you last night."

"And several times this morning," he added with a self satisfied smirk.

She flinched. "How many times exactly?"

The shit-eating smile just got more obnoxious.

Well so much for never ever, ever.

.

**King of Diamonds**

"I hate you. A lot. And I hope you know that."

"Don't pout wifey, it could be worse."

"Oh yeah, enlighten me," she deadpanned as she got out of the bathroom, steam ringlets twirling behind her in languid waves. "And don't call me that." Her skin felt raw having spent half an hour scrubbing the feel of Beech's hands on her; and though she smelt like the hotel's expensive rose shower scrub, all she could smell was waffles and Irish coffee.

"You could've married a bum."

"No, instead I got you, the last option on the list."

"So I was on the list." From a small table near the balcony, he sat smirking at her from over the rim of his mug.

"Once," she allowed, "along with a dog and the most hated man in America."

"Your standards are low Stella."

"Don't call me that either," she huffed, ignoring him as she walked around the hotel room again to try and find clothes.

"What, your name?" He mocked.

"You don't call me anything, but Yamada." Not that they'd ever been "Beech and Yamada" after they got out of high school and met again in college, but being "Ray and Stella" again wasn't a good idea for a variety of reasons; stupidity like a shotgun wedding was one of them.

"But that's not your last name anymore."

"It is when we get this thing annulled."

"For that to happen it would mean we didn't consummate, and we did, several times," he informed her, drinking his coffee leisurely as if they didn't just get married and he hadn't realized how much she wanted to skewer him.

"Beech," she growled and he looked up at her innocently.

"Yes _dear_?"

"Where are my clothes?"

"Well I am aware of the location of your underwear, but the rest I can't say I know." He set his mug aside, promptly ignored her and began to eat the huge pile of waffles he ordered from room service.

Blankly she stared at him, waiting in dread for an elaboration. However, he only paused to gingerly touch the bruising below his eye, the result of her reaction to getting hitched in Vegas, and to him; before he noted, "You've still got that nasty right hook, but I have to say, you're getting rusty."

"Were you hoping your eye would fall out," was the sarcastic reply as she cocked her hip and eyed him like something to be stepped on.

"I'm just saying you could've hit me a lot harder," he remarked, just as a thought occurred to him and he grinned cheekily at her, "Or maybe you were going easy on me? Still have a soft spot for me Stella?"

"Yamada, you call me Yamada."

"Sure Beech, Stella Beech."

"Don't!"

"Sit down and have something to eat, you're getting crabby."

"You make me crabby!"

"Last I checked I was clear of STDs."

"Who says I'd believe a damn thing you say?"

"Because we're married, it's a trust thing." He shrugged then, like it was no big deal. And what annoyed her was that to him it wasn't despite everything that had happened to them. Stella wanted to tear her hair out of her head and scream into the heavens, but chances are he'd probably be still be sitting there, cackling and smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

"Sit down already, would you? Being married isn't that bad."

"And you'd know this how?"

There was a light tap on the door.

"Come in, it's open."

"What? Damn it, can't you wait until I'm dressed?" She huffed, crossing her arms in annoyance and trying to ignore the heavy flush on her cheeks. It was bad enough he'd seen her naked, but other people seeing her not-so-dressed was crossing a line.

He spared her a passing look as a guy dressed as a bellboy and a man with a suit came through, wheeling in a chest, like the one you'd expect to find on a sunken ship.

"Mr. Beech, Mrs. Beech," the man greeted with a formal bow to them both, reminding Stella of a maitre de. "I am terribly sorry for the delay in your prize money but I hope you accept the casino's humblest apologies and your free stay in the penthouse."

"It's no problem, thank you Franklin," Beech answered with a nod, his haughty air minimized to a respectful but commanding tone. With a further wave of his hand, the two men disappeared, leaving the chest on the floor.

"What…is that…?"

He rose suddenly and with a quick flick of the wrist to open the chest, the neatly folded greens appeared within, sitting in patient piles of hundred dollar bills waiting to be spent while small, glittering diamonds winked in between the emerald folds. "That my dear wife; is how I got you to marry me."

.

**King of Hearts**

"So tell me again, how'd you end up marrying Stell?"

"You don't listen the first time do you Delgado?" Ray asked in annoyance.

The curly haired young man raised his hands in defense. "I just find it hard to believe alright? After all this time, I didn't think you'd get her to say yes. Though it must've been the alcohol right? Or the money…"

"We both won the money, and it was her idea to get blasted out of her mind in the first place."

"Then why are you two still hitched?" Ginger asked, taking a sip of the scotch he ordered once the reception was in full swing and everyone finished clamoring up to him to offer congratulations. It was Olivia's special day anyway, not so much his; he'd be content, Ray was sure, to simply sit on the sidelines for once and watch his wife bathe in the afterglow of having to be with someone who wouldn't leave. Ray wished he had a scotch too.

"You've only been together a few hours; you'll probably be off trotting single before the night is through." It was almost comical how Delgado appeared to be comforting him.

He shrugged his hand off. "She was the one that got away, it's not happening again."

"Ray and Stella" were self-destructive is what everyone said.

When the highs were high, they were as blissful as any newlywed couple would presume to be. But when the lows came it was too much for them; they weren't mature enough to handle the emotional conflict that love came with, there was no communicating unless it was with the intention to hurt. It was a silly game where they only loved to sate their lust and gave each other hell because they were too prideful to accept anything else. It was a test to see who could hurt the most and who'd be the weaker one and leave first.

In the end Stella won.

At twenty when their relationship was so volatile that even breathing was strained, she pushed too hard. She'd done something she had always accused Ray of, cheating on her.

The saddest thing about being betrayed was that it was not an act that can be committed by strangers.

And Ray, with emotional and physical reserves drained, could only walk away to save what little pride he still felt he had.

Stella achieved in breaking him. And all she got for her trouble was a heart that hurt just as much.

He had said, in those moments when their love felt real, that he'd do anything to fix them, and here he was, finally getting that chance.

"Well what will you do? I mean, didn't she say she wanted an annulment?"

"Then I'll just have to convince her not to."

"That's your plan?" Delgado asked in surprise, the lack of foresight was so unlike the blonde.

"Hey I convinced her to marry me didn't I?" He asked with a smirk. "Now I just need to get her to love me again."

"Because that'll be an easy thing…"

"It will; she already loves me – she just needs to remember."

Ginger blinked slowly as if trying to understand; his following question was asked deliberately, "So that's it, make your wife fall in love with you?"

"Exactly."

"What are you going to do when she asks for a divorce?"

"She can't."

"Like her parents would let her, they're anti-divorce as in Death-do-we-part isn't even enough to cover for the afterlife."

"Do they even know about the change in their daughter's relationship status?"

"Yes," he answered shortly.

"How?" Both men asked in unison, suddenly putting everything down to stare at him.

Ray snickered at the identical expressions, and took a measured sip out of the flute of apple juice. "After we got hitched she went on Facebook."

It took a moment before, impressed, Ginger leaned back in his seat and whistled. "Even if you didn't ask my permission Ray, you've definitely got my blessing to be married to one of my best friends."

Somewhere in the crowd, Stella Beech nee Yamada stalked through the crowd – intent on being a widow.

Unfortunately killing someone at your best friends' wedding isn't considered polite and so she was forced to intimidate him on the dance floor after insistences from everyone in attendance that both the newlyweds should take the first dance.

The feel of his arms around her was an unsettling familiar she became accustomed to so quickly that it was almost as if she had only ever been in his arms.

"My parents called me," she informed shortly, her attempt to calm her anger resulted in short bursts of breath tickling Ray's ear.

"Oh really, and?"

Subtly she stepped on his foot and stayed there, relishing the wince in his visage.

"What do you think?"

"It isn't like they hate me," he said reasonably, pulling her closer and tightening his grip around her as retaliation.

"That isn't the point."

Ray knew she was trying to fight him, trying to find an escape to something she felt she didn't deserve. Stella admitted as much last night – before clothes were removed, before the shotgun wedding, before the alcohol; confessing things to strangers hidden to them by flimsy partitions like they were at a confessional and not a bar.

"Then what is it?"

"I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?"

She gripped his shoulders tightly, her eyes closing as she murmured, "I already hurt you Ray…"

"You already know I'm a glutton for punishment," he said jovially, nuzzling her fragranced cheek. "But this time I know you won't hurt me like that."

"How?"

"Because I can make you happy, I promise to make you happy. No divorce, no heartbreak, no walking out – it's you and me. I'll stay so long as we're trying. I'll stay as long as you want me to. But I'm not going away just because you're afraid to be happy."

"How do you know I won't leave?" was the whisper, the fear she had that she might actually do it.

"Because wherever you go, I'm going with you. I didn't follow you to Vegas for anything less than to make you mine in every way I could."

Stella laughed quietly into his neck. "You couldn't just be happy with getting the jackpot?"

"Go hard or go home right?" He kissed her head. "Besides, I had the royal flush. Winning was guaranteed."

**Finis**

**A/n: **I literally suck at endings x_x I am so sorry Vanessa, hope the rest of the story was okay.


End file.
